


Science Bros Inc.

by urusai_lilania



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, M/M, Science, Science Bros, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urusai_lilania/pseuds/urusai_lilania
Summary: Bruce can't help but feel wary of moving into Stark Tower. It's at the heart of New York, filled with expensive things, and owned by the peculiar party-boy, Tony, who has become particularly chummy in the days since the alien invasion. So when a drunken Tony proposes an experiment, Bruce's anxiety can't help but rise...





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cesia_Dalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesia_Dalia/gifts).



> This is a WIP that's been sitting around waiting for motivation, but I just recently finished a MCU-marathon and I want to play!

Bruce hadn’t wanted to move into Stark Tower. That, itself, was the understatement of the century. He wanted to be out of the public eye, far, _far_ away from the city—not at the very heart of New York! But Tony insisted he squirrel himself away at his clubhouse, like a young boy excited for a new (and probably their first) member.

What Bruce hadn’t expected was how _quickly_ Tony moved. He _should_ have, he knew, but… some things never cease to amaze. “Are you sure this isn’t a problem?” he asked, duffel bag in hand. All he had was this duffel bag, he realized. It felt small and insignificant compared to the room he found himself in. A single room in an entire tower dedicated to his new friend’s ego. He clutched the bag’s handles a bit tighter and glanced around. Tony was totally oblivious to his discomfort—or relishing it. Bruce wouldn’t put it past the eccentric scientist.

“Why would there be a problem?” Tony demanded, glancing over his shoulder with an obnoxiously cocky grin.

“Uh… huh…” Bruce glanced around the workshop with mild interest. These were all toys. Shiny, expensive toys—Tony’s toys. He had more elsewhere, obviously, but the lowest level workshop of Stark Tower was his _favorite_ playpen. If Bruce hulked out in this stupidly small place… “Jeez!” he yelped, clutching his side and glaring at the other man.

Tony waved his fancy little conduit rod, a broad grin plastered on his face. “You’re doing that thing again. Stop it.”

Bruce tried to ignore the fact that his gawk had a playfulness to it. “You’re doing _that_ thing again! _You_ stop! You’re asking for trouble!” Why did Tony still carry one of those damned things? The answer was obvious. It also meant Bruce should turn around and walk away _now_ , before the trouble began…

“I _do_ love trouble…” Sighing as the corner of his lips tugged upward, Tony shook his head and dropped the prod on a nearby table. “You put yourself in a corner way, _way_ before you have any reason to,” he commented. “And what good does it do you? Nothing! Either you hulk up or you don’t, buddy. But it’ll happen eventually, right?”

“That’s a bit irresponsible.”

Spreading his arms wide and glancing around the room, Tony asked, “You’re worried about all my nice things? Just numbers. Just money. I’ll get more. I’ll get _better_ ones, even. You’d be doing me a favor. Go ahead. Smash. I _guarantee_ you I can remake any of it, better than it was before!”

Bruce sighed. “Your attitude aside—”

“You want to see your place?”

Hesitating, Bruce asked, “I have one?”

Tony rolled his eyes and smirked. “Well, _yeah_. I wasn’t going to chain you to a stake in the yard. Not unless you’re into that, anyway. Not that I have a yard at this house. I’d have to take you to Florida.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Don’t worry about it! This place is big enough for the two of us.”

“The two of us? What about Pepper?”

Tony scoffed and turned away, gesturing for Bruce to follow. “Pepper didn’t like my most recent endeavors. Agree to disagree, that sort of thing.”

Bruce frowned. He liked the confident woman. She was Tony’s better half, in many, many ways. “Friends, at least?”

Tony snorted and waved a hand before signaling the elevator. “Oh yeah, yeah. She can’t leave me alone! Too dangerous for my own good.”

“She’s got that right,” Bruce muttered, stepping into the elevator with mild reservations.

Tony gave Bruce a side-ways glance and closed the elevator, sending them on their journey. “So maybe she thinks this is a good idea too, see? Think of it like having a guard dog.”

Inhaling sharply, the agitated male rubbed at the crease in his brow. “A guard dog with no training or sense of loyalty.”

“Eh, details. And here we are,” the rich playboy announced, his queer grin the only warning Bruce had. The doors opened, revealing a darkly lit room with lushly simple furnishings.

“Jesus, Tony.”

“You like?”

“This is… ridiculous.”

“Haha, you think _this_ is ridiculous? You’ve got to check out the view from the top.”

“Are you inviting me to something, ooor…?”

With a laugh, Tony gestured to the door. “I need a drink, and you need a break. Come on. Drop the bag and come play with me.”

~~~

The sun had long since set on the penthouse level to Stark Tower, a fact which only facilitated Tony’s thirst. Bruce had a brandy or two, knowing it did him little good. It tasted expensive, though. How much money did Tony drink away on days like this?

Sloshing his drink about as he thought, Tony laughed. Bruce arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the tech-head was thinking about. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“ _What_?” Yeah, no. Bruce _really_ didn’t want to know what was swirling around that thick head! Such a departure from their previous topic of specifically calibrated lasers was not something Bruce cared to think on.

With a sloppy grin, Tony thrust his hips to demonstrate, his drink sloshing over its rim and onto the expensive tile floor.

Shaking his head, Bruce scowled into his brandy. The alcohol must be finally getting to his friend. “Night before the accident,” he finally admitted, quickly burying the thought with a swig. “It’s impossible nowadays.”

“ _Damn_.” Tony’s expression was of pure disbelief. “I’ve had to have sex _hundreds_ of times since that day! No, wait, I’m sorry, thousands! Wait, I’m totally not sorry about that.”

Rolling his eyes and throwing back his glass, Bruce muttered, “Well, _that’s_ shocking.”

“Well, with a face like mine…” Tony expressed, gesturing to his body. Bruce snorted.

“What? What’s that snort mean?!” Tony demanded, brandishing his drink accusingly at his companion.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing, Tony. Nothing at all.”

“Hey! Just because I don’t have a few sexy grey hairs, doesn’t mean I don’t _rock_ this!”

“You think grey hair is sexy? It’s a sign of stress.” He eyed Tony suspiciously and leaned back into the plush couch cushions. He’d hung around the other male enough to know what was about to happen.

Throwing himself over the back of the couch and practically onto Bruce’s lap, Tony tried to drink his drink, only to find that he’d lost it in the maneuver. Snatching Bruce’s glass, he made a disappointed groan as he found it empty and tossed it over his shoulder. A sloppy grin graced his face as Bruce cringed at the sound of the crashing glass. “It’s _also_ a sign of wisdom to some, which is bullshit, but whatever. You make it look good.”

“…Thanks.”

“What sort of product do you use?” Tony demanded, taking both hands and playing with Bruce’s wavy hair.

Bruce exhaled and closed his eyes to avoid the sight of Tony’s intoxicated grin. “Whatever I can get my hands on, if I’m lucky enough to get paid.”

“Mnn, no more of that,” Tony announced, relaxing in his seat. “You’re on payroll.”

Eyes snapping open, Bruce turned to stare at his friend. “I’m sorry?”

The grin plastered on Tony’s face grew to even greater proportions. “Had Pepper see to it yesterday.”

Ignoring the great many problems with the concept, Bruce simply said, “I don’t have a bank account.”

Twirling a finger through the air, Tony nodded. “Yeah, and I realize you’d rather not be tracked, but you can at least withdraw money from time to time while you’re here. S.H.I.E.L.D. already knows you’re here, after all.”

He had a point… Scratching irritably at his collarbone, Bruce muttered, “What do I owe you for that?”

“Eh, pass an eye on my projects occasionally, give me some input.”

“We’re in totally different fields of research, Tony.”

Winking and pointing at the thicker man, Tony said, “Yeah, but you know plenty. Enough to correct me, and _that’s_ saying a lot. In fact, fuck it, I propose an experiment. Right now.”

“No.”

“No, listen to me. You _need_ to get laid.”

Bruce sighed. It was like talking to a child about the worst thing imaginable. “I _can’t_.”

“The only people who say ‘can’t’ are those that aren’t smart enough to find a way,” Tony reasoned. “And we _both_ know you’re smarter than that.”

“Did no one ever tell you ‘no’ as a kid?”

“Nope. Maybe. I don’t listen very well, either.”

With a heavy sigh, Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up at least. But I’m telling you, I’ve tried everything!”

“Big guy, you’re a scientist. You’ve tried _science_.”

“Science is what caused it.”

“Mm, reasonable. Sure. But what if we try technology instead?”

“What sort of electrified metal could possibly stop _him_?”

“We’ll see.”

The horrible truth slowly dawned on Bruce: Tony wasn't about to let up. Bruce had unwittingly become the newest toy in the gilded toy box. As far as the proposed experiment, well… what on earth was Tony thinking about trying? Another expensive suit?


	2. The Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce have a heart to heart in the lab about whether or not Bruce should get excited. Tony votes yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ey-lo lovelies! Been trying to push out this update for a few days now but got a bit stuck, sorry about that! I want to really have fun after this part though. This is the setup for some good ol' fashioned rumpus!

Drunk Tony was, not surprisingly, Tony simultaneously performing at his best and at his worst. Bruce wondered how many of Tony’s successes came from a drunken tinker-session compared to perfectly sober ones (if they did indeed exist at all). The guy could probably have much more success sober, but like many gifted people, he was terribly afflicted, always doing a wobbly, unstable waltz with his poison.

It probably looked similar to the wobbly, unstable waltz the deranged, drunken brunette was currently doing at the workstation next to Bruce. The normally-broody scientist couldn’t help but let loose a healthy chuckle; Tony’s enthusiasm, after enough exposure, was a contagion even he wasn’t impervious to. “Made a breakthrough yet?”

“Mmhm!” Tony hummed in a song-song way, his feet tapping wildly against the sterile floor. “The ol’ engine’s been throwing sparks on this baby for a few days now!”

“Just don’t burst into flames on me, okay?”

“That’s what Dummy’s for,” Tony murmured absent-mindedly, waving a hand indiscriminately at the air before him. Blinking, Bruce glanced to the robotic arm; it waved a ready fire extinguisher at him enthusiastically. Something about this caused Tony to jerk and look up at his robotic companion. “Dummy, _don’t_ you dare! If you blast me early, I’ll scrap you and turn you into a Barbie RC car with a twisted front axle.”

Pinching and rubbing at the crease in his brow, Bruce shook himself. Tony glanced over to him with a wicked grin. The grin that always send the word “DANGER” screaming through Bruce’s self-conscious. “Seriously, Tony. I have to stay calm. You know what that means, right? Of course you don’t…”

With a shrug, Tony spun on his heels, extending his arms wide. “Gotta stay calm, eh? You know that’s not going to happen; our little clubhouse members breathe and breed chaos, and you and I have caused our fair share of misadventures together. You’re always angry; I _know_ you’re always angry at _me_. So there’s never going to _be_ any calming you, if you’re the big green rage machine you claim to be. So just skip _trying_ that step already!”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle, though this time it was due to more than a mild annoyance. Tony, drunk or no, friend or no, was trying to tell _him_ about _himself_ as though he knew _just_ what Bruce went through every day of his life. What a fucking _riot_. “Oh? And what’s the next step, then? I’m afraid I’ve never gotten that far.”

Tony’s grin melted into a reasonable smile, but Bruce wouldn’t be fooled; a reasonable smile from an unreasonable man was just a trap waiting to be sprung. Bruce waited in silence, twitching incessantly, for Tony to grace him with a reply. Finally, it came, flowing through those tricksy lips like rope. “You’re so worried about becoming the big guy; just worry about what the big guy _does_ , yeah?”

Bruce sighed heavily through gritted teeth. “I don’t follow.”

Tony picked up pen from his table and tapped it rapidly against the edge of his table. “Exciting you brings him out, right? Let’s do it! Let’s get excited. Come on, I’ll join you. It’s the least I could do after—”

“ _No_.” Someone had to be the adult, and it would never be Tony. Bruce set his stare at his friend and leveled his breathing. In, out, in out. Tolerate. He’d dealt with worse than this. Hadn’t ended well, naturally, but still—he had dealt with worse.

Cocking that grin once more until it fell over sideways and disappeared entirely, Tony said, “This isn’t just some lighthearted offer. I’m giving myself into your care!”

“Tony, you’re a bloody _masochist_!”

That wriggly eyebrow of Tony’s arched dangerously on his forehead. “What, and you’re not? You’re _here_ , aren’t you? You can’t _possibly_ tell me in all seriousness that you think I’m a _safe_ place for you. _I carry an electro-rod to prod you at any given moment._ Granted, that normally isn’t such a dangerous thing, but this is _you_ we’re talking about.”

Bruce gnawed at his lip; Tony had him there. Why _did_ he like to be around the ticking time bomb? Was it because that phrase described them both so well? Was it Tony’s cheerful chants of “Science Bros”? Was it because Tony had a dark side, a side that only Bruce seemed to understand (or hear about)? Suddenly, Bruce was snapped out of his thoughts; Tony had wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him into his side. “What’re you doing now?” he demanded, attempting to pull away. But it was no use; Tony was clamped on like a leech.

Cocking his warm grin at his partner, the pride of the Stark family said, “Guess what?”

Hesitantly, Bruce eyed the other. “…Wh—” But before he could finish his question, Tony jumped in, literally, planting his lips against Bruce’s and inserting his tongue. It was totally out of left field, but what was even stranger was the small lump that travelled down Bruce’s throat. Tony pulled away—though not far, nor did he let go—licking his lips as he laughed into the cold air of the lab. Bruce repeatedly ran a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes blinking owlishly. Finally, he dared to ask, “What did you just have me swallow?”

A slick grin graced Tony’s face as he finally ceased his laughter. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “Monitoring device. It should hold up against the big guy long enough to give us some physical readouts of what’s going on inside you. Don’t have much time though, it’ll dissolve eventually. Gotta know the beast to fight back.”

“ _There is no fighting back_!” Bruce yelled in the other’s face, twitching. “I keep _telling_ you—”

Hardly fazed by the outburst, Tony tugged gently at Bruce’s waist. Did he think the reminder of his hand’s presence was a comforting gesture? On the contrary, it made all the muscles along Bruce’s spine tense. “Come on. Give yourself _some_ credit. You _know_ I don’t listen worth a damn.”

Looking down at the hand latched onto his hip, Bruce wondered, “Couldn’t you have just had me swallow the damn thing?”

“I did.”

“ _A normal way_.”

“Maybe I took a little something for myself,” Tony admitted with a chuckle. He couldn’t help but enjoy the look of confusion and frustration gracing the other’s face right now. “You’re so selfish, keeping all that hunkiness to yourself. It’s criminal! Think of it as… an advanced payment.” _Oh_ yeah; Tony grinned with pleasure as Bruce’s features twisted into that tired-parent look he often had lately.

“I’m the hulk, not the hunk, Tony.”

Whistling, Tony declared, “Mmm- _mm_ , I beg to differ!”

Bruce frowned, his nose scrunching up. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to blame this newest development on “drunk Tony” or not… “…What do you _mean_ , ‘advanced payment’?”

Smiling brightly, the billionaire scientist announced, “I plan to have my way with you.”

Okay, now _every_ muscle in Bruce’s body was tensed to the max. Tony was a hardcore flirt, it was true, but Bruce had never heard of him flirting with an unintended target. (That was just a waste of energy, wasn’t it?) “Aren’t you a self-proclaimed lady’s man?” he chanced finally, directing his frown at his friend.

“Mm, I’ll give you that,” Tony admitted with a knowing nod. “It’s not my usual thing, but I’ve got no problem with it. Maybe most guys just don’t impress me much. I like to think I take us Science Bros _very_ seriously.”

“Tony, when have you ever taken anything you fucked seriously?” Bruce demanded, attempting to pull away. When there wasn’t an immediate response, Bruce looked to his friend and grimaced. The look on Tony’s face said it all: somehow, somewhere along the line, he had taken the people he fucked _very_ seriously. Probably starting with Pepper… who had left him, and rather recently at that. Bruce shook his head and scratched at his brow. “I’m sorry, Tony. I don’t have much social grace.”

Licking his lips, Tony swallowed back the impending dark cloud threatening his horizon. “Neither do I. But… do you really not take me seriously?” he asked, shifting his grip on the other man’s waist.

Bruce winced. “…Not until now, no… I hate to say it Tony, but you’re not exactly known for it.”

With a half-hearted smile, Tony chuckled under his breath and went to release his hold on Bruce. Before he could step away and allow himself to drown beneath that terrible storm brewing on the edge of his mind, however, Bruce reached out and enveloped him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Tony. Maybe if you weren’t always so damn playful and I wasn’t so dense.” There was a slight shifting as Tony’s arm moved around a bit beneath Bruce’s grasp, and then, quite suddenly, a jolt. Bruce jerked uncomfortably, resisted the urge to toss Tony aside, and released a heavy sigh. “…Do you _still_ have that rod on you?”

“Yes.”

“You ruined the moment, Tony.”

“Moments make me uncomfortable.”

“ _You_ make me uncomfortable.”

“Permission to make you the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been with me before?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Now you don’t!” Tony declared, energetically locking lips with the other man. Bruce winced as Tony forcefully stole his oxygen away. Were his lips already bruising from the forcefulness? The other man was drunk, after all. Bruce wasn’t _entirely_ against these ministrations, but he knew he couldn’t tolerate this sort of thing for long without certain consequences, never mind the guilt he was feeling about allowing Tony to make any sort of decision drunk.

Bruce didn’t have long to ruminate. If there was one thing that could be said (out of the hundreds upon hundreds of things) about Tony Stark, it was that he was hardly the romantic. As if he wanted to be slammed through a window of his high-rise, Tony slipped his roaming hand into Bruce’s pants. “H-hey!” the greying scientist stammered, stumbled backwards against his workstation table.

Grinning wildly, Tony breathed into Bruce’s ear, “Hear me out, man. Experiment.”

Bruce shuddered, still recoiling from his friend’s touch. “Is this what you tell everyone you do this to?”

“Only you. I think.” And then Tony could not be distracted from his work any longer.

While the admission from his friend stirred something within Bruce’s chest, he wasn’t certain it wasn’t a rising panic. He knew what would inevitably come, mere moments from now. He knew what this sort of behavior did to him. He had no defense. None. _Tony_ had no defense! And yet the other continued on with his hands groping flesh that had not been groped in ages, plying his lips here and there along Bruce’s neck as he did so. Bruce cringed, his jaw clenched. Controlled breathing. In, out, in, out. Rapid succession. Regain control! Impossible to maintain with Tony’s actions. Why was Tony such a goddamn idiot? Didn’t he know Bruce could kill him in a heartbeat? Didn’t he know what that would _do_ to him? Didn’t he care?

No, Tony had a twisted sense of value. Bruce had said it himself: Tony was a masochist. Bruce was a shiny toy, labeled with a big yellow sticky note with a big red “NO” scrawled sloppily on it. Tony had never grown up.

Unfortunately, Bruce had no say in the matter. He couldn’t help but say “no”— _loudly_.

Bruce’s eyes shot open. Tony grinned, a wince escaping his lips; he could feel the flesh beneath him suddenly shift, the nervous energy fleeing the tender flesh, replaced with something far more aggressive. Those dark brown, sorrowful orbs were turning a painfully bright green. Before Tony could say anything witty to greet the other half of his peculiar friend, the drunken masochist hit the far wall of his lab and sank several inches into it, the wind knocked from his lungs in one painful smack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


	3. Phase One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can't help but poke the beast. At least this time, he had ulterior motives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo~ a bit of a short chapter for what it contains, but I'm hoping it suffices!

Tony never really thought far into the future. It just wasn’t his style. Whenever he _did_ make an attempt, it inevitably ended in blood and tears with a dash (okay, most definitely more like a huge heaping pile) of regret. He hadn’t planned on what to do once the Hulk appeared before him—he just knew that he needed the beast to show face for his experiment to even begin. Bruce (or, the Hulk, really) hadn’t disappointed him in the least. Tony had flustered his terribly skittish friend enough to summon the Hulk, and the brute in question was in top form—not two seconds into gracing the room with his presence, the green ruffian had forcefully smacked Tony into the wall next to them, knocking the wind from the irritating little man.

Surprisingly, the Hulk wasn’t particularly interested in puny Banner’s tiny friend, and that was fine; Tony just needed to get the data from the transformation and the most basic of vitals… at least, to start with. He had an inkling of what he wanted from his improvised diagnostic exam, and what he wanted was going to _hurt_. So long as it didn’t damage his moneymaker, he’d let Bruce’s debt slide. Just this once. Maybe. Normally, he would dress for the occasion, but he was certain his patient would look at any Iron Man suit and see it as a threat much more worthy of action, and Tony didn’t want that. They were, after all, in New York. If any place had reason to hate the Hulk, it was New York!

The Hulk grunted, looking down at where he had Tony pinned to the wall with his enormous hand. Having been in this position before (though admittedly, in a suit), Tony hissed sharply and waved a hand as best as he could, a twisted smile gracing his lips. Face screwing up in confusion, the Hulk roared and flung the tiny pest through the air and across the lab. With a resounding crash, Tony hit a far table and slid across it and over the other side, carrying the tools and schematics littering the metal table’s surface to the floor beneath him. With a wince, the raven-haired drunk lay there for a moment or two, trying to wrap his head around what he was attempting. He needed that monitor to obtain the Hulk’s readings… Could he get the Hulk just a _little_ more worked up without having him ultimately flee (or having himself smashed to death)? More than anything else, Tony needed Bruce to stay at his side, or this would be all for naught.

Tony was never the best at taking his own personal safety into account. Scrambling drunkenly onto his feet, he waved a hand at the other half of his dear friend. “Heeey, big guy.”

The Hulk gave him the side-eye. The side-eye? Seriously? Tony couldn’t believe it. “What _you_ want?” the green giant demanded finally, snorting and looking around the lab anxiously, flexing his hands over and over, breathing heavily. It was clear his surroundings made him uncomfortable—though Tony wasn’t sure what sort of surroundings actually _pleased_ the Hulk… Still, it was weird enough that the Hulk wasn’t just straight up trashing the place.

Tony blinked, a toothy grin gracing his features as he slowly weaved his way around the lab to stand before the other again. On the occasions he had interacted with the Hulk, he was rarely chatty. No, he was all about smashing, and smashing a _lot_ —but he wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t behaving like normal at all. Did that mean that Bruce was steering, or was the Hulk just calmer than usual? As if in response to this, the Hulk turned and yelled in Tony’s face, spittle flying everywhere. “Ah, sorry, big guy, I forgot my manners! You want a drink, something to eat?”

The hospitality only seemed to confuse the Hulk. He stomped about in a tight circle for a moment, before finally slapping himself on the right side of his head. “No Banner!”

“No worries, big guy. It’s you I want,” Tony said with a chuckle. He had first-hand experience with the Hulk’s displeasure towards his host and knew better than to try and converse with Bruce in this form. “I missed you!” Wasn’t a lie. Nope. He had need of the Hulk today, if only for a little while.

Curling his lip at the tiny human, the Hulk looked about the lab. Against his better judgement, Tony reached for and snatched up his little toy from the table closest to them. The giant brute didn’t seem to care what he was doing now, and that was good, because he was probably about to care a hell of a lot. Without a moment’s consideration for the consequences of such action, Tony reached out and touched the Hulk’s side with the tip of his electro-rod. The Hulk flinched, just barely, and slapped at Tony with a mighty swing of his hand, as if he were a buzzing fly, sending the man tumbling back across the room. That didn’t seem to satisfy the beast this time however, because he charged at Tony, sending any and all unsecured tables and lab equipment scattering around the spacious room. With a snarl, the Hulk clutched Tony in his hand and picked him up, pinning him against the wall once more to yell in frustration in the man’s face.

Suddenly, before the Hulk could further move to show his anger towards Tony, he yelled, “No! No Banner!”; with a great grunt, he shook his skull, punching himself in the temple. Tony grappled as best he could with the enormous fingers crushing his body against the wall. He stared up into the monster’s eyes, searching. His friend was in there, he could tell. His friend could see him. Is that why the Hulk was having so much trouble? The Hulk growled, punched himself again, and shoved Tony deeper into the wall.

But whatever had transpired within the Hulk was taking effect now; his expression kept flinching, softening, showing confusion, then concern, before finally the beast released Tony, limping away as the transformation took hold, clutching his skull and bodily shaking himself over and over. Bones crunched and realigned, muscles rippled and deflated, and that strange green color faded away to pale cream. What was left behind was the much more diminutive Bruce Banner, half-naked and dazed.

Tony collapsed at the base of the wall and gasped for air, his lungs burning hot fire, legs splayed out crookedly before him. He was definitely battered and bruised and would feel like utter shit in the morning, but he had escaped death at the hands of the strongest Avenger—hell, the strongest thing on Earth. So that was a win for him.

“Are you… done… with this stupid game of yours?” Bruce demanded, wiping his brow and panting heavily, his other hand holding up his severely loosened pants around his waist.

Raising a hand above his head, Tony laughed. It was a wild, crazed thing, but so was he. “Phase one, a moderate success!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


End file.
